Page 44 of Cowboy’s Christmas Baker

Nick, Katie, and Zipper made a beeline for the big coffee table by the Christmas tree, where a checkers board was set up and ready.

“Hey, Mal,” Hope called to her from the kitchen.

Figuring Katie was doing just fine, Mal headed to the kitchen to greet her friend.

“Katie and I heard you on the radio the other night when we were baking,” Mal said. “You sounded amazing as usual.”

“Thank you,” Hope said, looking down at the potatoes she was peeling.

Hope was one of the most beautiful people Mal had ever seen in real life. It was a little hard not to stare at her perfect bone structure and flawless skin. If she had been a little taller, she probably could have been a supermodel. But Hope downplayed her beauty, never wearing makeup or showy clothing. Mal didn’t know her well, but it seemed to her that Hope wanted nothing more than to fit in. She had wound up with the deejay job only after a series of unexpected circumstances sent her from the production room to the microphone when there had been no one else in the studio to step up. But it was a wonderful happenstance, because Hope’s warmth and positive personality flowed easily across the airwaves. Hers was just the right voice to be broadcast into every kitchen in Trinity Falls.

“Hey, Mal,” Jacob said from beside Hope, where he chopped scallions on a weathered wooden cutting board. “How’s the bakery?”

“It’s doing well,” she told him.

“Mallory is hoping that we’ll do a taste test on some of her new scone recipes today,” Alice told him over her shoulder while she filled a pan at the sink.

“Where are they?” Jacob asked immediately.

“After dinner,” Hope said firmly. “You have to set a good example for Nick.”

“Right,” Jacob said. “Of course.”

He looked so disappointed that it made Mal want to smile. But men like Jacob and Harrison who worked outside in the cold all day had big appetites for a reason.

“I’m glad you’re ready to help,” she told him. “I’m hoping to have a Christmas special at the bakery.”

She left out the part where that would distract her from experiencing her first Christmas without her mom. Even seeing the bare branches of the tree here made her long to hear her mom saying it was time to get the ornaments out of the attic, with that special tinge of excitement in her voice.

“I thought you did gangbusters last year,” Hope said.

“It was a nice Christmas,” Mal agreed. She also didn’t want to say out loud that she had been hoping to set aside enough to get a bank loan on the building.

I don’t even know if Simon Webb wants to sell, she reminded herself.

Times like this she looked at people like Hope, who had moved up in their career, or like Jacob, who was right where he wanted to be, working the family farm, the two of them married with a child and a nice little house, and worried that everything in her own life felt temporary in comparison.

Even if she couldn’t buy the building, she wanted to at least put the bakery on the map.

I’ll come up with a signature holiday treat this year, she told herself. That much I’m in control of.

“Oh dear,” Alice said. “I’m out of eggs. How can that be?”

“Deviled eggs,” Joe Cassidy said on his way in the back door.

Harrison came in behind him, they each had an armload of firewood to stack in the built-ins flanking the fireplace.

“Goodness, you’re right,” Alice said. “I guess I’ll have to put applesauce in the biscuits.”

“Do you have plain yogurt?” Mal asked without thinking.

“We sure do,” Alice said.

“That might be better than applesauce,” Mal said. “It’s not sweet and the lactic acid will activate the baking soda to help them rise better.”

“My word,” Alice said with a big smile. “It’s nice having a professional baker here. Let’s give it a try.”

“Seems like it might taste sour,” Jacob offered with a furrowed brow.